


Basorexia

by Snake (Fatality145)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:18:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatality145/pseuds/Snake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><strong>basorexia</strong> -- the overwhelming desire to kiss</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basorexia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [urdnotkassa/tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=urdnotkassa%2Ftumblr).



> helpgfhdjfsdhsjh this ship is ruINING MY LIFE
> 
> PRESENT FOR [KASS](http://urdnotkassa.tumblr.com/) BECAUSE RAISINS
> 
> you creeper outsider s2g

Corvo wasn’t receptive to much, the Outsider found, when he believed himself to be safe. Especially so when he was drop dead tired, his knees buckling beneath him as he clambered up the stairs of the Hounds’ Den, already unclipping his scabbard from his waist, holding onto his mask with two fingers, dragging his feet.

 

                He didn’t notice the fluctuations in the air, the faint crackles of energy, neither the thrum of the gears implanted in the Heart, nor the glow or warmth on the back of his hand.

 

                Black eyes watched him from the darkness, the sun having long fallen beneath the horizon, the sky not splattered in hues of purple and orange, instead changed to a sea of stars. The Void roiled, Corvo’s calloused fingers more carefully placing down the intricate mask than how they dropped his weapons with a resounding clatter to the floor.

 

                No blood of another had painted the assassin’s hands, that day; there was enough of his own, though, to have the scent of it in the air mix the stark stench of burnt flesh. Campbell had been branded and Callista’s uncle had been saved. Of all the ways Corvo could have procured his task, he seemed to have chosen the most difficult of them.

 

                He was just _so_. In all his experience, the Outsider couldn’t pick a single word to describe him. He felt as though it wouldn’t do the man any sort of justice. It would have been so easy to just poison the High Overseer, have him vomit up cruor as the venom would seize him. All of these possibilities the Outsider had run through, playing them out before himself within the Void, over and over, countless times. Corvo could have slit his throat, vibrant red seeping out over the alabaster tiles of the Abbey, and have been out of the hot zone within the time he had taken to haul his unconscious body up into the interrogation room, still spilling no blood, searing Campbell a heretic.

 

                The Outsider may have even described him as infuriating, only in that he couldn’t take his attention away from the assassin, perpetually watching him, each of his acts shifting the Void, changing the colour, the tinge. Purely fascinating.

 

                Ungracefully, Corvo had flopped onto his bed, having just enough mind to take off his muddied boots, though nothing else before rolling onto his back, tense and ragged form quickly going slack, the Outsider feeling his consciousness fade from the connection.

 

                The Void stripped down his back, from his limbs and core, as the shadows slowly condensed, creating his metaphysical form one section at a time, from the feet upward. Beside the bed, the Outsider crossed his arms over his chest, otherwise unmoving.

 

                He was surprised - whether pleasantly or not, he paid no mind - that Corvo could sleep soundly with him around, with his influence close by, energy bleeding through into him almost constantly. The Outsider accounted the lack of a fear response, the lack of anxiety, to his complete exhaustion. Or, perhaps, it was for familiarity. All things considered, he was possibly the one Corvo should fear the least.

 

                The future wasn’t set in stone, not yet, anyway, but if the brief flickers that he could see were any indication, that statement would ring true for Corvo all throughout his task to return Her Highness to the throne.

 

                The Outsider hadn’t had this kind of intrigue since the assassin Daud, and, even then, Corvo had more resolve, more purpose. Unlike many of his other disciples, Corvo hadn’t succumbed to the thirst that the brand and abilities ordered, the death hunger. In fact, with the powers bestowed, he may have spared more lives than he would have without it.

 

                Faint patters of rain met with the windows and walls of the Den, casting sporadic patterns over the cracked glass, the energy around the Outsider twitching as he narrowed his eyes, still trained on Corvo’s face, his strong jaw, his darkened eyelids, the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing slowed.

 

                Scars visible at the base of his throat, some darker, some lighter, stretched with his inhales, the scant light coming in through the window casting heavy shadows over his face, the new work and his time in prison having left him with a new gauntness. The small cuts on his hands, from rat bites and blade nicks, had scabbed over, the wound in his upper arm, from a bullet too close, had been unwillingly wrapped up before he had trudged his way upstairs.

 

                Time had no concept to him, he hadn’t a clue how much of it had passed with him just standing still, taking in every bare movement and every breath Corvo gave.

 

                There was a twitch in the assassin’s lips as the Outsider lifted a foot up onto the bed beside him, his motion giving no reaction, bearing no weight, climbing up and over him. He was as light as a feather as he lowered himself into a sit over Corvo, his knees bent either side of his hips.

 

                He never gave reason for the things he did, he didn’t have to – he merely did them. There was nobody to answer to and he rarely answered to himself, the Void sinking down through the contact. The Outsider brought no nightmares, no dreams, as he forced Corvo deeper into sleep, the faint touches he gave to the man’s exposed throat leaving behind temporary black swathes that faded into smoke.

 

                Tracing down the tendons of his neck, the brightly glowing brand proved to be the only light source as clouds began to amass in the sky, the ambers and blues making the contours of Corvo’s face stand out further. Beneath his fingers, the Outsider could feel his pulse, slow, methodical, the sensation something he could only feel from those he’d marked, through the dampening that the physical world laid upon him.

 

                Corvo was like a log beneath him, almost completely unmoving, and remaining to be so as the Outsider shifted over fluidly, his mouth replacing where his fingers were. A cold burn sunk into Corvo’s skin, forked tongue flicking out against his pulse. The Void kept him under. Though he’d be able to experience some sort of the feeling, it wasn’t close to what his nerves were shutting out, not nearly enough to wake him up.

 

                There was reason for that, and not because he didn’t want Corvo to know. That didn’t bother him in the slightest. The Outsider was an enabler, rather than an inhibitor, he didn’t interfere and he didn’t make anything happen, he just gave his pets the means to. That’s where the fun was, after all. He knew human nature well enough, and enjoyed it enough, that he knew it would at least complicate things. By doing what he had already with Corvo, he had pulled on the strings of fate, distorted them. And while that unknown was interesting in itself, he wouldn’t act to change it further.

 

                His lips moved up the column of his throat, streaks of ebony tinging the skin beneath his mouth and fading as soon as they had come. The bristles of the coarse facial hair along Corvo’s jaw scratched at the Outsider’s cheek as he followed the palpable curve to his ear, his teeth grazing the shell. That brought a light shiver to the man under him, feeling the skin beneath his touch rise in gooseflesh.

 

                Leaning back, the Outsider just wanted to, so he did, running the back of his fingers over Corvo’s cheek, watching the skin twitch back from his chill. He drifted the tip of a finger down the slant of his nose to the dip just above his upper lip. It was strange, almost, if it weren’t for the weathering that he’d received in prison, the scars and wounds he’d gotten that now smattered his skin; Corvo wouldn’t look like an assassin what so ever. His features were soft, even more so in his sleep.

 

                The Outsider’s nail traced the outline of Corvo’s lips, from one corner to the other, stilling a moment before deftly pinching his fingers around his nose. Even through the Void’s influence, the body still functioned, and Corvo twitched again, air not getting to his lungs. It had taken longer than the Outsider had expected for him to sputter and open his mouth wide enough to breathe, only then taking the pinch away.

 

                Corvo was still deep in sleep as he leant over again, parted lips hanging just over parted lips, feeling his warm breath spread along his skin. The only answer the Outsider had eventually given himself was that he was _curious_ , insanely so, before he pressed his mouth to Corvo’s, the heat melting into him, something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

 

                He slid his forked tongue out, sliding it along the grooves of Corvo’s teeth, his sharp canines, the soft gums. Tilting his head, he deepened the unreciprocated kiss, his fingers curling into the front of the assassin’s clothes one by one as he ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, the texture of the grooves, the soft exhales that he received.

 

                The Outsider’s eyes were half-lidded, sight fixed to him as he curled his tongue around his. That, at least, proved to make Corvo shift, pulling a small sound from him that was muffled between them. The corners of his mouth twitched up into a brief smirk, lingering for a second longer before pulling away.

 

                Lifting one of his hands, he wiped his sleeve over his mouth after licking his lips, slowly recalling the Void into himself. The Outsider’s curiosity would be sated, for now, the shadows and energy gradually swallowing him.

 

                When Corvo would awaken, he’d taste blood and sea water. 


End file.
